


A Lush Affair

by callmetash



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Fluff, Terry's vanilla soap, bath bombs, ft. Lush the store, set after Skyfire Cycle, why am i so bad at tagging lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 03:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10377288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmetash/pseuds/callmetash
Summary: STORYTIME: 100 LUSH BATH BOMBS?!?!?!?or, Alternatively: Jake and Amy discover the beauty and terrifying power of Lush.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!! this is my first ever b99 fic so i'm pretty nervous posting this right now!! i've been working on this since skyfire cycle came out, so mostly i'm just proud i got this done. since this is my first time writing for b99, i'm just hoping i got jake and amy's voices correct, and that hopefully everyone enjoys this very fluffy, somewhat-crack fic that took me Too Long to write. enjoy!!!!

There’s been a nagging thought in Amy’s head all day that her boyfriend may have been abducted (which isn’t totally unreasonable, since it’s happened before) but Jake’s known for not answering his phone during his days off, even sometimes when he’s on duty, because he’s terrible at remembering to charge his phone. It’s a crazy concept, mostly because Amy knows Jake has all his chargers plugged into a power board by his bed. She’s convinced that the board is going to blow up his apartment one day.

“That will never happen, Ames,” Jake says confidently each time. “I never have them charging all at once.”

Which is true. He never remembers to charge anything, let alone multiple things at once.

There’s a moment of panic where Amy wonders if Jake has blown himself up with his non-surge protected power board. She calms herself down by rationalizing that if that had happened, the building would’ve been in flames by now. She does, however, struggle with the idea of Jake tripping on said power board and whacking his head on the side table with the dangerous corners. Amy’s tripped on the thing on a regular basis, and both she and Jake have bruises on their hips from where the Corner has attacked.

The elevator door opens with a muted _ding_ , and Amy takes her phone out again, bypassing her contacts list altogether and dialing Jake’s number from the call history. It’s only been the ninth time she’s called him that day. She reaches his voicemail as she approaches his front door.

 _“What up, it’s your boy Jakey P here!”_ Jake’s voicemail cheerfully crows, and Amy sighs. _“I’m off fighting crime right now—”_ Untrue, Amy thinks, as she starts to knock on his door, _“—But leave a message after the beep and_ maybe _I’ll get back to—”_

“Who is it? I’m busy!”

Amy finds herself exhaling in a way that’s both a sigh of relief—her boyfriend hasn’t been electrocuted nor suffering from a concussion—and a hiss of exasperation. Jake is also guilty of ignoring texts when he’s home because he’s too busy looking at memes during commercial breaks. Would it have hurt to text back at least _once_?

“Jake, it’s me!” Even Amy is surprised by how irritated she sounds.

“Ohhh, hey Amy!” Perhaps it doesn’t translate so well through the door, but Jake doesn’t seem panicked by her tone. His voice comes from somewhere deep in the apartment—the bathroom, Amy realizes, after she hears sloshing water. So he’s preoccupied then; Jake’s either unclogging his toilet or—“Just use your key, I’m in the bath.”

Jake no longer uses his bathtub as a place to store mail—Gina had had an intervention after they’d swapped apartments, and since dating Amy, Jake’s organizational skills have improved dramatically—but it’s not something Amy has ever remembered Jake using at _all_. Even Amy, lover of soothing baths, has never used Jake’s tub; the one at her apartment is much better.

The moment she opens Jake’s front door though, Amy makes a face. It’s so stuffy and warm—surprising, since Jake doesn’t always turn his heating on, and it’s almost December—but also because all she can smell is a mixture of fruit and floral scents that don’t work well together. With the added humidity, it makes Amy feel a little sick; she makes a detour by the windows and opens them before she reaches the bathroom door.

“Hey,” she says, wary, as she opens the door. Whatever she was expecting—this wasn’t it. She’s got a vague idea, but since it’s Jake, she can’t be too sure of what to expect. “I’ve been trying to call you all day—”

The words die in her throat. Her assumption is right—that Jake had managed to get his hands on some bath bombs and wanted to try them out—but this is _Jake Peralta_ , the cop with a flair for the dramatic, so her eyes widen as she tries to take in the scene in front of her.

A paper bag, emblazoned with the words “LUSH: FRESHLY MADE COSMETICS”, sits by the bathtub, filled to the brim with bath bombs, parts of it soaking wet and completely surrounded by the large, foamy puddles on the bathroom floor. The bag’s drier, even fuller twin (how is that _possible_?) sits on the closed toilet seat.

Amidst the chaos, her boyfriend sits in his bathtub, large grin obscured by both his knees and the absurd amount of bubbles sitting on top of the water. With the heat and the way the water’s bubbling up, Amy knows it’s not the first bath he’s drawn that day.

“Mess,” Amy says. Her voice is quiet. It’s partly because she’s horrified, because this is the messiest she’s ever seen Jake’s bathroom, which is saying something, but also because everything the sight is so overwhelming and so ridiculous that if she wasn’t so shocked, she probably would be laughing. “So _messy_.” 

Jake’s smile dims. He shifts in the tub and water sloshes onto the tiles, catching half of the Lush bag. It’s completely drenched now. Amy winces. “Sorry,” Jake says, “Forgot to charge my phone. Also, I didn’t think it would be okay to use it in the bath because I’d probably electrocute myself. Anyway—how was your day? Did you get a lead on the Smith case?”

Now, Amy could just be an adult about this and tell him about the lead they had found today, in between Amy and Charles being worried about Jake’s well-being, but her brain had seized onto a single detail.  “You haven’t answered any of my messages or calls because you’ve been testing bath bombs _all day_?!”

Jake inhales sharply. “Well, it was my day off,” he tries to defend himself, not meeting Amy’s eyes. As he takes in the bathroom around him, he starts to grimace. “Wow, I did _not_ think it would get this bad. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up as soon as I’m done. It might take me like, four more hours, though. To finish what I’m doing, and then clean. But it might take me longer than that to clean. I don’t know. It’s really bad, _wow_!”

“Jake.” He looks at her this time, even if his expression is sheepish. “I don’t care about the state of the bathroom,” she says, and she can see one of Jake’s eyebrows rise in disbelief. “Okay, maybe I do a little, but I know you’ll clean it up because if you don’t you’ll literally break your neck and I know you’re smarter than that. But…” she gestures wildly at the Lush bags. “What the hell? Why bath bombs?”

Jake turns somber, and his eyes grow wide. “Because I went to Lush to find Terry’s vanilla soap,” he says in a loud whisper. “I got sucked in, Ames… I got sucked in way too deep.” 

Amy opens the small bathroom window to allow some fresh air to circulate before she sits on the closed toilet seat. Jake shivers and tries to lower himself into the bath; the more he tries, the more his knees come up. “Hey, it’s cold!”

“I wanna know how you got sucked in,” Amy says. “But I don’t want to faint in here either. Plus, it stops your mold problem from getting worse.”

“Good call, good call,” Jake says, shifting again, trying to find a sweet spot. More water spills over the edge of the tub, and Amy leans over to move the wet Lush bag away from the chaos. Jake shoots her a grateful smile. “Okay, so you know I told you last week I _finally_ managed to ask Terry where he got his awesome smelling soap from?”

“The one you’ve been talking about for months,” Amy says. “Because Terry always smells like real vanilla.”

“Exactly! So I googled the store. All the Lush stores in New York are in Manhattan, so since it was my day off, I thought I’d check it out…”

Amy sits and listens as Jake as goes into detail with his description of the store, which he describes as a “more hipster Bed, Bath and Beyond without the Bed stuff”. She watches his eyes glaze over as he describes the colorful bath bombs and the assault of fragrance as he walked into the shop.

“The girl at the store let me try one—they have bowls you can put some of the bath bombs in. And it was _so_ awesome, and apparently, they’re like super good for you. I know I’m pruney right now, but I think once I get out of here, I’m going to _glow_ , Ames. So then, I—well, I kind of blacked out a bit, and suddenly I was telling the person at the register I was buying these for Christmas—well, the bag behind you, anyway, because I think I have to use all the ones in the wet bag up—and I was leaving with a stupid amount of bath bombs. I didn’t look at the receipt, I was too scared.”

“I don’t blame you.” Amy decides to be a good girlfriend and not remind Jake that he was still in Crushing Debt, even if it was much less than it had been before. He’d come to that realization on his own, and he’d beat himself up for it because he’d been doing _so well_ at not overspending on ridiculous things since he’d come back from Florida. In any case, at least he had Christmas presents for everyone (and a full set of Hanukkah presents for his mom, too, from how incredibly full that bag was). “Did you get the Terry soap, at least?”

Jake clears his throat, the bath water rippling around him. The bubbles are beginning to disappear, and Jake eyes the wet Lush bag, avoiding eye contact. “Well, about that…”

“ _Seriously?_ You went to Lush for soap, and you ended up buying a million bath bombs and you end up not getting it?!”

“I was a man _possessed_!” Jake yells back, raising his arms up dramatically. “Besides, I thought buying the soap on top of that was overkill—”

“Oh, okay, buying one bar of soap would be overkill after buying a hundred bath bombs—”

“Amy, I’m going to take you to Lush the next time we both have a day off. And it’s not just going to be me. _Everyone_ walks in there without really knowing what they’re buying. I’m willing to bet you’re going to walk out of there with heaps of stuff you don’t need.”

“I will _not_.”

“You will.”

“Fine.” Amy cautiously walks over to Jake and holds out her hand to him. As soon as he puts his wet hand in his, she holds on as tightly as she can and shakes it. “You have yourself a deal. We go to Lush together—whoever buys less stuff while we’re there wins. Loser has to pay for everything we buy.”

“Bring it _on_ , Santiago. I’ve already lost all my self-control in that store, so I’m definitely going to win.” Jake’s eyes flash with the promise of a challenge, and he drops Amy’s hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices him flexing his hand—oops. Her handshake was probably a bit too firm.

“You wish, Peralta.” She begins to walk towards the door, turning to look back as she asks, “You okay with Chinese for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks, babe. I’ll be done in here soon!”

Jake splashes about in the water for a few more moments, and it’s only after Amy’s finished placing their order does she hear the water go down the drain. Jake doesn’t notice, but Amy has a smile on her face the whole night—her boyfriend’s not exactly conventional, but he’s adorable, even if he is _extremely_ fiscally irresponsible.

(When they go to Lush three weeks later, Amy loses their bet. The Lush gurus help her formulate a new skin care routine, which is highly necessary, but Jake points out she has heaps of full bottles of moisturizer and cleansers at home—“And I know this because sometimes I use them just because I’m curious!”—as well as some hair products, because hers had been feeling dry recently. She ends up with twenty products in total.

Jake, meanwhile, buys nineteen new bath bombs. They include his top ten, as well as bath bombs he really wants to give to members of the squad because he thought they’d like them. His twentieth object is Terry’s vanilla soap. He wins because that’s the whole reason why they’re there in the first place, so their bet doesn’t end in a tie and it is Amy who ends up having to foot their shockingly large bill.

“Told you that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself at Lush,” Jake says, looking smug.

Amy whacks him with her Lush bag. “I didn’t have a goal! You had soap. That’s not fair. I demand a redo.”

“Fine. Next month? Whoever loses pays.”

“You better start saving, Peralta, because I want one of those fresh face masks and that’s going to be _my_ necessary item.”

“Ooh, are you gonna get that green one? Because I wanna see how that tingles on my—I mean. Keep _dreaming_ , Amy.”)


End file.
